A few years ago, the Swedish Academy awarded Bob Dylan the Nobel Prize in Literature for his poetic contributions in American music. Good for Bob, I say. I’ve been a fan ever since I first heard Blood on the Tracks at the age of twelve. Not so good for Bob, as it turns out. As […]
Ranked Things and the Ranking Rankers Who Rank Them Read More »
A couple of decades ago, if I moved across the country, that meant I’d probably see folks from my home state once or twice a year at best. Now, thanks to the wonders of social media like Facebook and Twitter, we’re able to virtually hang out with people we’d never get to see in person.
The Reasonably Sane Person’s Guide to Surviving Social Media Read More »
This has been a terrible year. Don’t get me wrong. Every year is terrible in its own way—and each one always seems like it’s upping the ante from the previous one—but this year is one for the books. Not only is idiocy running rampant, it’s being lauded as wisdom and truth. Scumbaggery and smug self-righteousness
The Power of Complaining Read More »
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m just out of bed. I pour a cup of coffee, stagger into my living room, and grab my television remote. Back in my younger days, I’d have searched the channel guide for Scooby Doo, Where Are You?, Looney Tunes cartoons, or even Super Friends, but times have changed. Saturday in
Four Things I Learned from Watching SyFy Original Movies Read More »
“Our youth now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for their elders and love chatter in place of exercise; they no longer rise when elders enter the room; they contradict their parents, chatter before company; gobble up their food and tyrannize their teachers” – A quote occasionally attributed to Socrates
Nostalgia: Gazing at the Past through Now-Colored Glasses Read More »
When I started writing fiction, I was told that, as a southerner, I’d been imbued with an appreciation for “my land” and “my people” and they therefore must be part of any story I set out to write. Imagine my confusion when I found that, despite reading vivid descriptions of endless varieties of red dirt,
What I Don’t Write (About): A Writing Mini-Manifesto from a “Southern” Writer Read More »